


Until The Lesson is Learned

by MissS



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Little bit of Obi-whump, M/M, POV Obi-Wan Kenobi, Protective Anakin Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-23 11:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23177248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissS/pseuds/MissS
Summary: Maybe he really will die on some uncivilized planet doing someone else’s bidding.(Or, an exploration into how it's actually all Obi-Wan's fault that he's injured so often and for a rather stupid reason, while Anakin is just doing his best to keep his master alive.)
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 351





	Until The Lesson is Learned

**Author's Note:**

> I have a backlog of a couple of small pieces I wrote for myself, not having an account yet, and I thought I'd post them now in light of the quarantines happening across the world on account of Covid-19.
> 
> If you're in social isolation, and needing a little Anakin and Obi-Wan to get you through, here's a little something :)

He knows it’s not the first time, and most assuredly not the last, that he’ll end up like this. Flat on his back feeling the give of boggy earth under his spine, and the shudder of a blast that his ears refuse to hear. The Force isn’t screaming and clawing at the back of his neck to warn him of danger, there’s only the steady hum of lives lost and lived around him, and so for a moment he almost considers closing his eyes. But he doesn’t, forces himself to blink frantically and force air back into his lungs, and takes stock of the injuries he’s sure he acquired while being thrown from a hovering gunship.

And then to make matters worse, if being temporarily deafened and shaken up wasn’t enough, it feels like his brain is now on fire. It’s loud and it’s frantic and it’s overwhelmingly Anakin.

Taking stock of his surroundings while trying to tune out his once-apprentice’s mental meltdown, Obi-Wan elects not to move from where he is. Sure, there’s debris being tossed around, more minor shocks running through the earth below him, but things feel far away and there’s a haze of pain making it easier to bear the invasive nature of Anakin’s panic and he might close his eyes again. Because this has been a long day, he is tired, and this has happened before and is likely to happen again.

Anakin always comes for him, and he knows he should discourage it. He recalls to Obi-Wan’s side like a hound on some backwater planet when his master calls, drops everything at the whistle of the Force in the back of his mind that says Obi-Wan has brushed too close to death once again. Another time, where he felt almost out of body other than Anakin’s mechanical grip on his hand while being hauled to triage on a hover gurney, he admitted to himself that perhaps this is why there is always a next time. Because Anakin always comes, extends his incredible luck and death-defying power to Obi-Wan, and over time he’s become used to being the favourite of the Chosen One. He’s become used to defying death, accustomed to flirting with it, there is never a consequence and so he does it again.

But Anakin hasn’t gotten used to it, still cries out in his mind every time Obi-Wan falls from a gunship, or feels a blaster bolt rip through his side. It’s always new for Anakin, always anguish and agony. Even now he can feel Anakin’s warmth nearing him, and feels his body relax against the damp ground despite the injuries he has sustained in anticipation of that warm presence enveloping him. Anakin’s eyes are red rimmed and his hands grasping onto the tatters of Obi-Wan’s tabbards now stained with blood and soot and reddish earth, he babbles under his breath words that Obi-Wan knows and feels well enough to recite even though his hearing is still suspiciously absent and breathing is hard.

“Please don’t die, please don’t die, fuck, Obi-Wan. It’s going to be fine. I won’t let you die. You’re going to be fine. Rex, where’s that-“ and then he’s leaning into a wrist-mounted comm and scanning the horizon line, lips curled around curt directions and Obi-Wan thinks he’d like to kiss him if he wasn’t so sure that his shoulder was dislocated at the very least.

Anakin’s eyes are back on him and his hands can’t seem to settle, as if his own limbs are alien to him and he can’t decide what to do with them, trying to find an uninjured place on Obi-Wan’s body to touch and to hold. Obi-Wan takes a good moment to study Anakin’s face, noticing the crust of blood and dirt on his cheekbone. His voice is weak and hoarse to anyone who can hear, because he certainly can’t, but he exhales into the words “You’re bleeding.” And raises his brows in question, he would reach out and touch his tan skin if he weren’t concerned about the lasting impact of trying to move potentially broken bones. Oh, how he would like to feel that skin under his fingers, freshly bronzed from time away from Coruscant under foreign suns and tacky from exhertion.

“Are you kidding me? You got blasted out of the sky, there’s a skid mark shaped like you in the damn dirt and you’re worried about a fucking scratch on my face?” Ah, good, nothing snaps Anakin out of the trance-like mumbling like a little irritation. Obi-Wan stutters out a cough and tries for a wry grin instead of grimacing “I do like your face.”

Anakin’s breath hitches as he laughs or cries, Obi-Wan isn’t sure which, and his hands find their way to Obi-Wan’s cheeks and he thinks for a moment Anakin might kiss him- and gods above, does he want him to, when there’s a glint in the corner of his eye of a small squad of clone troopers that draws Anakin’s hands from his face and his attention away from Obi-Wan. Later, he decides, sighing, and closes his eyes. This will happen again, sometimes there’s a kiss to tide him over and sometimes it’s waiting for him in the medbay when the privacy curtain is drawn. But he always gets one, and so he can be patient.

“I fucking told you I’m not letting you die, don’t do this to me Obi-Wan-“ He gasps for air around the pain of being shaken to alertness by Anakin, his desperation palpable even though Obi-Wan was just resting his eyes for a moment. Or perhaps longer, he couldn’t say. Can’t Anakin see he’s tired? It’s nothing bacta won’t fix, nothing waking up to Anakin’s heavy arm flung over Obi-Wan’s sure to be bruised ribs and kisses on bare skin won’t fix.

“-I want us back in orbit as soon as possible with coordinates set for the nearest medical frigate. Don’t make me repeat myself.” And then the steel in Anakin’s voice melts away at the affirmative response from the incoming troopers, and his hand finds Obi-Wan’s stubbled jaw again “Hey, it’s going to be fine, Obi-Wan. They’re here. We’re gonna go home, okay? We’re going home.” Obi-Wan nods carefully, he knows ‘home’ is a relative term that Anakin uses for starfighters and large ships and huts on distant planets on the other side of the galaxy, but it’s always somewhere they will be together and so Obi-Wan isn’t concerned. 

He leans into Anakin’s fingers like a lothcat does the carress of it’s keeper, drunk on pain and the adrenaline of a close call, and Anakin bites his lip and furrows his brow. Then Anakin is choking out “This can’t happen anymore, I can’t lose you, I can’t-“ and pauses to heave a breath before saying “I don’t want to.” Obi-Wan mumbles back, voice like gravel “I know.” Because he does, knows that loss is Anakin’s greatest fear, that he possesses all those he loves and he saves the most for Obi-Wan. 

In some way Obi-Wan thinks that perhaps this is good, that this happens again and again. That Anakin gets to practice, and maybe one day he won’t come so fast and won’t lift Obi-Wan to the gurney with surprising gentleness, and maybe he really will die on some uncivilized planet doing someone else’s bidding. But Anakin needs more practice, a knight in his own right but forever his master’s student, and Obi-Wan thinks that his heart may break that day when he doesn’t see Anakin round a corner or crest a hill with fire in his eyes and the desperation of a starving man. The day he doesn’t taste Anakin’s sour mouth kissing him in the morning, doesn’t hear him laugh at Obi-Wan stretching to relieve the cramps in his back from cramming two full size men into a bunk meant for one. On that day he’ll be dead, and so his broken heart won’t matter, but he wishes he could find another way for Anakin to learn this lesson other than breaking his own bones. But he’ll do this again, and they’ll keep doing it until the lesson is learned. 

Anakin is caught up in giving orders to the newly arrived troopers, dragging a hand through his too long hair that’s turned shaggy in recent months, his focus elsewhere but his free hand still lingering on the gurney near Obi-Wan’s side. One of the planet’s suns peeks through the cloud cover and for a minute he can’t see Anakin’s face, just his darkened profile haloed by the first sunlight Obi-Wan has seen in three days. They’ll go home, wherever Anakin decides that is today, and next week the bruises will fade and he will have stopped complaining about the leftover taste of bacta in the back of his mouth, and Anakin will make new bruises on his hip from the grip of his prosthesis, he’ll taste his hot salty skin, and they’ll repeat this until they figure it out. Anakin is a slow learner, Obi-Wan doesn’t mind.


End file.
